


Whatsername

by detoxjusttoretox



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Green Day, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Green Day - Freeform, Nostalgia, Other, Songfic, Whatsername - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detoxjusttoretox/pseuds/detoxjusttoretox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse of a woman triggers Tom’s teenage memories, ones he thought he’d forgotten. Loosely based on the song “Whatsername” by Green Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatsername

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my favorite songs, I feel that this work would be more effective if you listen to the song first. Listen to the Broadway version, too, if you're into it.

Despite the change in afternoon weather as autumn began, the demand for coffee in the early morning was still high. People shuffled into the cafe to purchase a hot beverage before starting their daily routines. Outside, the wind blew lightly as the clouds passed over the sun, giving it only moments at a time to warm the town below. Trees seem to shake their branches and leaves on mute, the sounds of busy baristas and foreign chatter the only soundtrack audible in the cozy shop. The bell over the door rings to announce a customer either entering or leaving, and a pair of baby blue eyes flutter nonchalantly towards the door, only to blink at the woman leaving the cafe.

Having opted for coffee instead of tea this morning, the white cardboard cup sat seemingly harmless on the small, round table. Tom Hiddleston sat alone, unbothered and lost in thought. _It can't be her_ , he thought to himself.

His mind flips through memories of the past few days, recalling seeing an old familiar face, but it seemed too distant and blurred to be real. He didn't remember where he was going, what led him to be walking down that particular street from his teenage years, any sound reason of what he had been doing before or after seeing that face. Not because it happened so long ago, but because it didn't happen at all, he realized. These were memories of his slumber fantasies.

 

_Thought I ran into you down on the street. Then it turned out to only be a dream._

 

With a soft sigh, he stretches his legs out beneath the chair and table in front of him, taking a cautionary sip of his coffee. It burns his lips and tongue, making him yelp quietly in pain. His eyebrows pull together angrily, scraping his teeth over his tongue, then his tongue over his lips. They were numb.  
Another memory is pulled from an unsorted file in his mind, in which contained flames dance wildly inside an empty metal bucket. The crinkles around his eyes appear as they shut tightly, and he shifts uncomfortably in the chair.

 

_I made a point to burn all of the photographs._

 

It was embarrassing enough to think back on his teenage years, and to bring up worn out memories of past love was just fuckin' peachy. He was running on 5 hours of sleep, having stayed up reading his latest script, and had a meeting, interview, and a photoshoot on today's agenda. His head was clouded enough from sleep deprivation, he didn't need more problems. He stood up, slipped into his coat, and walked out of the cafe with his coffee in hand.

The cold gust that greeted him was refreshing on impact, but caused a headache immediately after. And the memory persisted, lingering on the front of his thoughts. He headed in the direction of a nearby park, while his thoughts played out broken clips he managed to hang on to, against his will. Her laugh, and how she would tuck her hair behind her ears when she did so, the black nail polish on her fingernails chipped slightly. The strategically tattered patterns in her clothing, black-lidded eyes, and her juicy lips painted red or black—depending on her mood—puffing on a cigarette. But always the rebellious seductress. Then the sound of her shouting voice, going on about how he was changing.

Tom grunted to himself, his free hand balling up inside his coat's pocket.

 

_She went away and then I took a different path._

 

His steps became strides, thinking that somehow, being at the park would make all his troubles disperse. _It didn't matter in the end, she didn't even support my plans_ , he comforted himself. If he had given into her bullshit call-outs, if he hadn't continued his path towards acting, where would he be now? Would he be living a typical office-job-and-unhappy-marriage life, with her? With... who?

 

_I remember the face but I can't recall the name._

 

She was beautiful. And charming. And popular. All the boys in the neighborhood were running after her, but she chose him. There was something about blue-eyed blonds, she had said. “I want to destroy you,” were her exact words, honey-covered death from behind her enchanting smile. And where was she now? Did she know about his success, and what did she think of it? Was she still the anarchy-driven teen queen?

 

_Now I wonder how Whatsername has been._

 

He rounded the corner, the park only a block away now. He was so deep in thought that he forgot he was holding his drink, and would have drank from it, but hesitated and decided not to burn his mouth again. He remembered the woman that had caught his attention in the cafe before she disappeared in the bat of an eye. But how would he know if that was her at all? He didn't even remember her name, how could he possibly guess what she would look like roughly 14 years later? But he remembered the rumors of eloping between her and the boy who replaced him. Maybe that was her life now.

 

_Seems that she disappeared without a trace. Did she ever marry old What's-his-face?_

 

His head swam in both pain and delight, the park now a few strides away. Paradise.

He sat down on an empty bench by the pond, with not much to see, what with the park being deserted this early in the morning. Not even the ducks had come out onto the water yet. But the calm of the place was enough to relax his mood and limbs, sinking lazily into the bench and trying at his coffee again. Not scorching hot, at least.

Summer nights spent in abandoned buildings, sneaking out on school nights, and everything in between flashed in his mind. Sometimes they went out in packs, and other times—most of the time—it was just she and him. But it was always fun, before they began to grow apart.

 

_Remember? Whatever. It seems like forever ago..._

 

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, a text from Luke to remind him about the meeting. Tom sprung to his feet, and sprinted off towards his destination. The day had officially begun.

* * *

 

Tom had been half-engaged in today's activities, but no one seem to catch on. Mostly because only Luke would have noticed, and he was too busy planning out Tom's schedule.

They sat in a comfortable silence in the backseat of the car, the driver dropping Tom off first. Goodbyes and see-you-tomorrow's were exchanged, and he walked backwards as he waved them off.

Thoughts of her found themselves again, making him grateful for the solitude and sanctuary of his flat. _Was I wrong to let her leave? Should I have payed more attention to what she was always revolting against?_ He questioned his long-past actions as he moved up the flight of stairs two at a time.

 

_The regrets are useless in my mind. She's in my head, I must confess._

 

He reached his door, shoulders sagging from mental exhaustion rather than physical, and unlocked it slowly. He didn't even bother with the lights, instead went straight to his bedroom after securing the locks behind him. Her face remained in his thoughts as he prepared for bed, exchanging his button-up shirt and pantsuit for a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He stared at his reflection as he brushed his teeth, shaking his head angrily at himself for letting these thoughts consume him throughout the day.

As he dried his face, he reflected upon his day-long musings. _What good does it do to dwell on the past? None_ , he scolded himself. These memories would probably retreat back into the depths with the schedule-heavy weeks ahead of him, anyways. They weren't all that bad of a reminder, after all.

 

_She's in my head from so long ago._

 

With a long, tired exhaled breath, he climbed into bed. He shivered as he adjusted to the cold of the bedding, eventually becoming warm around him. His eyes drooped, but his mind was still more awake. He noticed there was a lack of light, the clouds still in the sky and blocking the moonlight now. There was only the soft, blue glow of his alarm clock. He stared at it, watch the digital numbers change, before falling into deep sleep.

 

_And in the darkest night,_  
 _if my memory serves me right._  
 _I'll never turn back time._  
 _Forgetting you, but not the time._


End file.
